Chapter 11
As the sun was poking its head up the two friends tore through the countryside in a spirited ride, their horses enjoying the wind blasting through their manes. The morning was cool but very bright, the spring air was reinvigorating for both men and beast.
By the time they returned to Rosings, Bingley’s countenance was animated and flushed by the exertions of the morning’s ride and by renewed anticipation.
Yet not the whole of their excursion had been devoted to easy conversation; for when they paused in the very grove where Darcy had once been seated with Miss Elizabeth upon a fallen trunk, Darcy had steeled himself and disclosed to his friend the true motive which had invited him to Rosings Park:
“Bingley,” He cleared his throat, “there was another reason why I asked you to come to Rosings, other than my desire to see you again.”
“Yes? What is it?” Bingley looked at his friend slightly confused.
“First of all I need to confess a wrong that I did you, and then ask you for your forgiveness.”
“What wrong?”
“But before I do, I need you to know that my intentions were never to harm you, but were always the very best. I do care about you, as I hope you never doubt.”
“Darcy,” Bingley said laughing, “I am now very curious! What did you do? Did you steal my fortune? Or worse still, did you promise marriage to Caroline, elevating her to the heights of haughtiness and turning her into the most insufferable woman in the Kingdom?”
Darcy shivered at the thought of Caroline Bingley as his wife, “No, God forbid, nothing as tragic as making Miss Bingley my wife.”
They laughed then Darcy sobered again, “No my friend, my fault was a miscalculation that I now know has brought you nothing but pain.”
“What are you referring to then?” Bingley enquired, his face becoming more sombre.
Darcy shifted his weight from one foot to the other in a nervous manner. “I did you wrong Bingley, when I presumed to instruct you on whom your heart should love... or not.”
Bingley blinked a few times in quick succession but made no comment.
“I separated you from a young lady who was... in fact, at the time, truly in love with you.”
Bingley gasped, “Miss Bennet?” He whispered, “Did her sister tell you that?”
Darcy nodded.
“Tell me all.” Bingley demanded.
“Miss Elizabeth informed me, in terms most explicit, of the suffering into which my conduct had plunged Miss Bennet.” Darcy closed his eyes, anticipating a blow to his nose which to his surprise never arrived.
After a few moments of uneasy silence he resumed his account.
“Upon our departure from Netherfield Park, Miss Bennet followed us to London. She paid her respects to your sisters who contrived to avoid her society for as long as propriety would permit. At length they waited upon her at Gracechurch Street, yet displayed no more than the barest civility. Indeed, their manner made it abundantly clear to her that they no longer wished for the continuance of her friendship.”
Bingley looked at his friend with fire burning in his eyes, “did you know all this... all this time? I mean her being in London and my sisters’ behaviour?”
Darcy nodded again, this time with shame colouring his face.
“And you call yourself my friend...” Bingley said quietly, dangerously calm.
“I am your friend, you know that I am.”
“No. I thought I knew. But now I am truly starting to doubt that claim.”
“Bingley,”
Darcy began to protest but Bingley stepped toward him in a passion and cried hotly, “Silence, I beg you! You have no right to attempt your own defence. You have acted the villain whilst masquerading as an honourable man. It is your pride, your arrogance, your disdain for the feelings of others that marks you out most decidedly.” Bingley fixed him with a look of mingled fury and disbelief.
“How was I so blind as not to discern it sooner? That you derive a sort of satisfaction from arranging the lives of others, as though you were appointed their guardian and superior when, beyond the accident of your birth you possess nothing to recommend you? What, sir, is truly yours, your distinguished name, your estate, your consequence in society? These were not earned but bestowed. Deprive you of them and what remains that you may claim as the fruit of your own exertions?”
Darcy involuntarily stepped back, startled by the vehemence of Bingley’s address.
The habitual mildness which had ever defined his friend’s character seemed, in a single instant, wholly overthrown, replaced by a countenance marked by indignation and affront.
Never before had he known the young man to elevate his voice in anger; still less had he witnessed such unrestrained fury, his expression so altered as to appear quite murderous.
But this state of unrestrained ire did not last very long. Bingley sat on the fallen log; his shoulders sagged, his chin touching his chest and, Darcy thought he saw a tear or two falling to the ground from the young man’s eyes.
Darcy’s heart broke.
Never had Darcy felt so ashamed of himself. His friend was within his rights to call him out and put him to the sword for his interference, for the untold suffering he had thrust on so many.
He sank to his knees beside his friend in an attitude of deepest contrition; “Bingley, no expression of shame can equal what I feel. I have indeed disgraced my family’s name and betrayed the friendship of the best and most generous of men, merely to gratify a most unpardonable sense of my own superiority.
I entreat you with all possible humility to forgive me; will you ever look upon me again as a friend and grant me your pardon? ”
Bingley opened his eyes and looked at Darcy, his anger spent. What was left was a broken man with red eyes and a haunted countenance. His manner altered in an instant, his indignation giving way to bitter self-reproach.
“I am to blame,” he said pitiably, “I who knew what Jane was; the sweetest of ladies, the gentlest of spirits, the most loving, the most unassuming... I did this to her.” He gazed at the sky for divine help, or maybe seeking forgiveness, “I deserted her,” he exclaimed in a voice subdued by remorse.
“She did not merit such treatment. She must despise me now.”
He looked upon Darcy with such unguarded anguish that Darcy felt himself compelled, without a moment’s delay to disabuse him of the painful notion that Miss Bennet regarded him with hatred.
“I think you are mistaken Charlie, if you believe the lady hates you. Did you not hear what I said that she went to London in search of you and she has been there ever since?”
“But she must by this time consider me wholly indifferent, particularly after so long an absence. Also I cannot doubt that Caroline has supplied her with every manner of falsehood: that I am devoted elsewhere; perhaps to your own sister, or to the daughter of some duke, or to an heiress possessed of a hundred thousand pounds. There is no tale too ridiculous for her invention. I know too well how determined my sister can be, how vicious once her mind is resolved upon a scheme.”
“Yes this I know too well, being myself the recipient of her schemes many a time.” Darcy grabbed Bingley’s arm and turned his friend to face him, “But she is coming Charlie, she might be at the manor house already.”
“Caroline does not know where I am Darcy. I did not tell her the urgent business I had in Kent was you.” Bingley said despondent.
“Not Miss Bingley. Miss Jane Bennet!” Darcy said firmly and impatiently.
“What?” Bingley finally looked at Darcy stupefied.
“Why do you think I called you to Kent, my friend, to see my aunt, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh and to spend time with me and Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Darcy chuckled, “No, I did it to place you and Miss Bennet under the same roof once again.”
“How?” Bingley stood up abruptly and started pacing the grove raking his hair with his gloved fingers.
“Miss Elizabeth and I decided that you two deserved another chance, hopefully this time without any interference from me or any other well-meaning fool.”
Bingley’s face split up in a heart warming smile, “Well let us go then for there is no time to lose.” He said almost sprinting towards his horse.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” Darcy asked following him a few paces behind.
Bingley turned towards his friend once again, “that will depend entirely upon my reception from the lady herself. Pray Darcy because I may still have cause to call you out onto the field of honour.” He smirked.